Randy had adapted extraordinarily well to his disability. At 16, he was active in track and field sports, excelled at school, was class president of his ninth grade class, and was planning to become an Eagle Scout. If anything, the tragic loss of his left arm in a farming accident at the tender age of nine had given Randy more motivation to excel than most boys his age.

So it was doubly heartbreaking for him when, during a cross-country meet in the spring of his freshman year, Randy slipped on wet grass and fell, breaking his good right arm above the elbow. The pain was bearable; he was a tough young man. But the now useless right arm became a cruel mirror of his left arm stump. He was now helpless, and it was a feeling he did not like at all.

Randy’s father, a stoic, hardworking farmer named Ed, gave his teenage son a series of unhelpful pep talks as Randy’s arm was x-rayed, set and put into a plaster cast. Donna, his mother, was more sympathetic, recognizing her son’s frustration. The drive home from the hospital was agonizingly long, both in terms of distance and the palpable tension in the car.

It was late April, and there was a lot of work to be done on the farm. Ed normally counted on Randy to help, but now had to do it on his own. For his part, Randy was pushing the limits of his own abilities, trying to keep his independence in the smallest of life tasks. But when he realized he couldn’t even wipe himself after using the toilet, he sheepishly called to his mother to help.

Donna came and helped him, being very deliberate to not make her son feel powerless. Still, as she cleaned him, he sobbed violently. He sat there on the toilet, leaning against her, bawling into her shoulder. Donna comforted him, cooing soothing words into his ear.

“Shh, honey, it’ll be okay. We’ll just have to work together until your arm heals. You are my child, Randy. I’ve seen you naked a million times, and I’ve wiped your butt more times than I could count when you were in diapers. I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to be your hands for a few weeks until your arm is better.”

Randy cried a little longer, but hearing his dad’s tractor in the field, he regained his composure, and let his mother finish wiping him. She pulled up his jeans and washed her hands.

“Thanks, Mom. I just can’t wait until this damn cast comes off.”

Donna gave him a wan smile.

“Until then, you might want to wear sweatpants so I don’t have to work so hard to get your pants on and off.”

She spun around and left the bathroom. Randy looked at himself in the mirror, his left arm a stump and his right a huge white plaster L shape. He shook his head and went upstairs to his room.

Farm work kept Ed out of the house nearly all day, every day. He was out in the fields before dawn, and didn’t usually come to bed until ten or eleven at night. Donna looked over at him as he slumbered. His face was etched with myriad lines from sun and wind and a lifetime of hard work. A few days of stubble were starting to show a little gray. This is the life of a farmer, Donna mused to herself as she watched her husband get a few hours of precious rest. He was happiest tilling the earth. He had no patience or skill for feelings, clever concepts, complicated relationships or even much conversation. Ed was a man made for working the land. Donna often felt alone, the only woman in the family, always at home, never able to express her feelings or vent her fears or frustrations. Randy was just like his dad. Or would be, eventually. But for now, he was still her boy, and now he needed her more than ever. She warmed at the thought, feeling good that she had an indispensable purpose. Then she considered Randy’s humiliating helplessness that first day on the toilet, and chided herself. She rolled over and closed her eyes. Sleep came quickly, and Ed had long ago risen to work by the time she reawakened.

Randy avoided showering for a few days, knowing it would be difficult, awkward, unsatisfying and would require his mother’s help. But he didn’t want to embarrass himself by returning to school smelling badly, and by the third full day, he quietly asked his mom to help him bathe.

“Just like when you were a baby,” Donna mumbled absentmindedly.

Randy fumed, “I am not a baby, Mom!”

“That’s not what I meant, honey,” Donna apologized. “It just brings back memories, that’s all.”

Randy stood in the bathtub, while Donna sprayed his naked body down with the hand-held shower head with one hand, and soaped him up with the other. Randy stood with his back to her, trying to maintain some dignity by hiding his crotch.

“I need to wash your butt and your privates, honey,” Donna finally said. She’d waited to do them last so his embarrassment might be put off to the end.

Reluctantly, Randy widened his stance, and Donna quickly rubbed her soapy hand through his butt crack, being as clinical and efficient as she could. She hosed him down and soaped him again, then rinsed again.

“Okay, turn around, Randy.”

Randy rotated, his eyes fixed on the light fixture above, as Donna rubbed the soap all over his penis, scrotum and thick pubic hair. She also did this quickly for Randy’s sake. She couldn’t help but notice how much he had developed in the past few years, as the incidental glimpses of her son’s anatomy had become less frequent with his adolescent need for privacy. Still, she avoided staring at his genitals, and finished washing and rinsing her son.

“Finally!” Randy sighed with exasperation. “You’ll have to towel me off too, I’m afraid.”

Donna nodded quietly, rinsed off her hands and grabbed a towel from the hook. She set about drying him off, his back and shoulders, his chest and stomach, his head and neck, his thighs and calves. She stopped, and Randy started to step from the tub.

“I’m not done,” Donna insisted, and thrust her toweled hand into Randy’s crotch.

She gently rubbed him dry, working the towel into the various corners and folds of his genitals. Randy swallowed loudly, uncomfortable with the sensations his mother was conjuring. He felt himself becoming aroused and hoped she wouldn’t detect his hardening as she toweled. Finally, she let go.

“Turn around, Randy.”

Relieved to be done with that part, Randy spun cautiously in the wet bathtub. Donna ran the towel over his buttocks, up his crack, and up behind his scrotum.

“Okay, kiddo, you’re dry. Let’s get you dressed.”

Randy rocketed out of the bathroom, down the hall and up the stairs of the big old farmhouse. Donna laughed to herself, rehung the towel and followed him upstairs at a less boisterous rate. Randy had already managed to pull some clean clothes from his dresser with his good hand, but could only stand there naked while he waited for his mother to arrive.

She dressed him slowly, lovingly, pausing to apply deodorant to his underarms. She was enjoying her increased time with Randy. As he matured into a fine young man, he was becoming less and less interested in spending time with his mother, and Donna had quietly grieved this side effect of his development.

It took a few minutes, but eventually the two of them got Randy dressed. It was a routine they were only beginning to get used to, but the many weeks of healing ahead would give them endless practice. Silently, they realized this together in Randy’s bedroom.

“I need to go get supper ready. Your dad will be heading back soon.”

“I miss being out there with him, you know,” Randy said softly.

“I know, honey,” Donna replied.

“And I miss school, and my friends. But with even the simplest things being impossible to do myself, I’m worried about going back to school. What if I need to use the bathroom? What about eating lunch?”

“You’re right, Randy. I think we just wanted you to be back with your friends as soon as possible. But you’re not ready.”

“No, I don’t think I am,” Randy admitted.

“I’ll call the principal and we’ll go in and meet with him and your teachers. There are just a few weeks left of school. I’m sure we can figure something out. But we can’t rush you back into normal life, and you shouldn’t either.”

Randy nodded, the full extent of his powerlessness and vulnerability finally hitting home.

“I think I hear Dad’s pickup. You’d better get going, Mom. I’m sorry to be such a burden.”

“Honey, you’re not a burden! That’s crazy talk! You’re just-“

The rattle of Ed’s Ford F150 up the long gravel drive was punctuated by a honk of the horn, and Donna turned and scurried downstairs. It wasn’t meek subservience, she reminded herself. Ed was doing all the work these days, and his time was precious, and so was his health. She put a plate of tasty leftovers into the microwave. She watched Ed’s broad frame walk up to the house, exhausted from the grueling demands of farming life. The microwave beeped agreeably by the time Ed had kicked off his boots and washed his face and hands. He collapsed into a kitchen chair and quietly set about restoring his strength through food and rest. He had a few more hours of work to do after supper, but that could wait.

Donna watched him eat. She loved Ed very much. He was stable, even predictable. He was easily pleased, loved her cooking, and was always grateful and courteous. But he was also emotionally very distant, and at times felt more like a roommate than a spouse. They hadn’t had sex in years, not for any particular reason. But they had a good life, a wonderful son, and their own farm, which was becoming increasingly rare.

The next morning marked the day Randy had planned to go back to school. But his conversation with his mother led to the decision to keep him at home for the rest of the school year. Donna called the school and spoke with the principal. Once he understood the situation, he was very accommodating, and offered to have teachers print out their lessons and assignments at once. Randy could study them at home to the best of his ability. When his arm had healed mid-summer, he could come in and pass a series of quizzes to make sure he had sufficiently mastered his studies for the semester. If he passed, he could move on to tenth grade in the fall as if nothing had happened.

The family got into a its new routine by the end of the first week after Randy’s injury. Ed’s routine was the most obvious, and he continued to run the farm singlehandedly. The weather was pleasant, and it was work that he loved. So he went about his days, largely absent but always happy. Randy was relieved to have some schoolwork to distract and occupy him. He could turn pages okay, though he couldn’t really write. So he mostly read and reread assignments, committing them to memory until he could commit them to pen and paper.

Donna selflessly ran the household as always, but with the added duties of tending to Randy’s needs. He continued to amaze her by finding new and clever ways to solving problems. Nevertheless, certain tasks would remain out of reach, and Donna did them without complaint or hesitation. Randy worked to stifle his stubbornness with gratitude. The two made a good team.

One of these was using the toilet. Donna became very familiar with her son’s anatomy. She regularly touched his penis, holding it while he urinated. She wiped him daily after he defecated. She washed, dried, dressed and undressed him every day. Donna found herself enjoying the sight and feel of Randy’s body. Randy’s embarrassment faded with time, which made her feel that her ministrations were less cruel.

One morning, well after Ed had left in the pre-dawn darkness for another day in the fields, it was time for Randy’s shower. He and his mother helped him use the toilet, then stripped him for his shower. It was like any of the previous showers she’d given him, though she lingered a millisecond longer on his penis each time she touched it. Randy noticed, but could not have guessed it was deliberate. She washed him slowly, carefully, lathering his penis as it gleamed with water and soap. Her hand caressed his heavy balls, her fingers searching delicately. Randy felt arousal set in, and watched with horror as he stiffened in her hand.

“Mom,” Randy stammered awkwardly.

“Shh, we’re just getting you clean, honey,” Donna calmed him.

She didn’t stop washing his cock, and it didn’t stop its slow inflation. Soon Randy’s bloated teenage phallus sat fully engorged in his mother’s soapy hands, twitching with her gentle touch.

Finally she rinsed him down, and grabbed the towel.

“Okay, baby, let’s get you dried off.”

Donna dried her son head to toe, skipping over his crotch as usual. Randy’s penis had begun to relax, and it hung pendulous, water dripping from its heavy head. Finally Donna arrived at his groin, and went in gently. As she dried him, his erection returned in force. He looked down at his mother, tenderly kneading his rock hard cock and heavy balls. There could be no mistake on her part; she had to know she was stimulating him.

“Almost done, baby,” Donna cooed softly.

But she persisted with her gentle rubbing. Randy exhaled loudly, and found himself losing balance. The feeling of her pressure on his cock felt amazing, and he knew from his regular masturbation that he was not far off from orgasm. He grunted involuntarily. He could not believe that his mother was jacking him off through a towel.

“Okay, honey, just about dry,” she said as if in a daze.

Randy gave in, and willed his orgasm to arrive. He looked down at his mom, her gentle hands massaging and pulling on him, bringing him closer to the brink.

“Jesus,” Randy muttered.

“Yes, baby, let’s get you clean and dry,” Donna insisted.

She tugged harder, and Randy shuddered in response.

“Oh, God,” Randy blurted out as semen erupted from his cock, and Donna pumped even harder.

“Oh, my,” Donna gushed as she milked Randy’s cock into the damp towel. “We didn’t expect that to happen. Didn’t mean to do that!”

But her tone belied her words, and she continued to massage him as he struggled to regain his balance and his composure.

“Well, I guess a young man like you…” Donna trailed off. She stared at his cock, now becoming limp, strings of sticky ejaculate like webs across the swollen purple head.

“Mom…” Randy again tried to begin.

“Well, let’s get you dressed and fed, shall we?”

Donna went upstairs ahead of him, laying out his clothes on the bed. Her hands shook, and her heart thumped loudly in her chest. Randy finally arrived upstairs, and she dressed him quickly, filling the silence with one-sided small talk.

Randy tried hard to forget it, thinking perhaps it had all been a misunderstanding and a misinterpretation. The next few days went by without incident, and neither Randy nor Donna gave any indication that anything inappropriate had taken place. Ed was oblivious in any case, working, eating and sleeping with robotic precision.

The next bath time came around, and Randy’s chest was heavy with anticipation, and more than a little dread. Donna’s hands shook again, and she calmed herself before meeting Randy in the bathroom. This time, as she washed his back, Randy felt himself harden just at her touch. He parted his legs, and Donna slowly soaped his buttocks. She swirled a finger around his anus. Randy’s legs quivered.

“Let me wash you, baby,” Donna cooed, her voice cracking with nervous energy.

Randy turned around, and Donna began to soap up his cock, long since erect. With a soapy hand she pulled on his engorged prick, kneading his balls with the other.

“Jesus, Mom,” Randy stammered.

Donna said nothing, but continued her ministrations. She worked his shaft with surprising energy, and Randy leaned against the back wall of the shower for support.

Donna pumped harder and faster, pausing only to switch hands or add more lather. Randy’s cock glowed white with soap, and the droning shower could not mask the conspicuous spongy sound of her wet hands moving with profound lust across his lubricated phallus.

“I’m coming, Mom,” Randy managed, the words sounding incredulous as they tumbled from his mouth.

“Shhh, we’re just washing you up, honey,” Donna said unbelievably.

“Unh, Mom!” The syllables barely escaping before his orgasm.

Donna grabbed the hanging towel with lightning speed, pumping her son’s semen into the terry cloth.

“Shh, baby, it’s okay,” she soothed, realizing that she was the one in need of soothing.

Randy’s cock launched spurt after spurt of cum into the towel, and Donna’s hand massaged and squeezed, milking every last drop from her son’s soapy member.

When Randy’s breathing slowed and his cock began to soften in her hand, she dropped the towel and rinsed off his cock and balls of their soapy lather. Donna fetched a fresh towel and dried him off without a word.

As the weeks wore on, this became the norm for Randy and Donna’s bath time. Sometimes she would jack him off with soap and her bare hand, other times she would work him with the towel. They never spoke of it, nor did it progress past her manual stimulation.

Then one day, between bath days, Donna came into Randy’s room to help him dress. She pulled his pyjamas off and tossed them in the hamper in the hallway. She came back into his room.

“What do you want to wear today, honey?”

“I don’t care, Mom. Whatever’s clean and handy.”

Donna pulled a t-shirt, sweatpants, socks and underwear from his dresser drawers. She put his socks on first, then the t-shirt.

“How’s the arm feeling today?”

“Better. It doesn’t hurt at all, and I know it’s getting better all the time.”

“Before you know it, you won’t need me to bathe and dress you anymore,” Donna said absentmindedly, realizing with some sadness that it was true.

“Someday, Mom. Someday. Until then, I’m at your mercy.”

Donna looked up at her young son. They shared a close moment staring at each other. Unconsciously, Donna’s hand went to Randy’s groin. She found his exposed penis and began to caress it softly.

“Not too soon, I hope,” Donna said with a loud gulp.

Donna dropped to her knees and took Randy into her mouth. Surprised, Randy tried to reach back to steady himself on the bed, forgetting his immobilized arm. He fell slightly into a sitting position on the mattress. Donna didn’t miss a beat, following him down, keeping his rapidly swelling cock in her mouth.

Donna sucked her son expertly. She worked his shaft with her tongue and lips, grazing occasionally with gentle teeth. She pumped him with her hand as she had done so many times before, but this time she wanted to taste him when he came. She bobbed her head up and down, sucking him with speed and vacuum pressure, working to get him off before either of them came to their senses.

“God, Mom,” Randy moaned. “What are you doing? What are you…”

Donna put a finger to his lips to silence him, not wanting to hear reason in this moment of lustful madness. She took Randy as deep as she could, reaching out with her tongue to tickle his balls as proof of her deep throat. She congratulated herself on her cocksucking skills, remembering that it had been a decade or so since she’d last sucked off Randy’s father.

“Shit, Mom, you’re making me come!”

Donna redoubled her efforts. If this never happened again, she wanted it to be memorable for both of them. Finally her jaw became so sore that she couldn’t keep him in her mouth. She kept her lips parted and jacked Randy off towards her waiting mouth.

“Come for me, honey,” Donna heard herself say as if by a total stranger. The words were incredible, and she feared for their consequences.

“Come for me, Randy. Momma’s taking care of you since you can’t do it yourself.”

The sensation of her pumping fist, the sight of her open mouth and protruding tongue were enough to set him off. Randy grunted and watched as three heavy volleys of semen leapt from his cock and into his mother’s waiting mouth. Donna giggled and flinched. She’d never jacked anyone off into her mouth in her whole life, and to be doing it with her disabled son was so bizarre as to be surreal. His cum was salty and hot, and she instinctively sought to spit it out. But she caught herself and swallowed a mouthful, feeling it burn the back of her throat.

She took Randy back into her mouth, to clean him off and to savor him one last time. She suckled him until he grew flaccid. She finally released him, resting her sweaty face against his damp pecker. Randy looked down at his mother, resting comfortably on her knees with her face pressed to his cock. The look they shared acknowledged that this was a dangerous game they were playing. This would be the only time this particular act would ever take place. Donna finished dressing her son, and went downstairs to get the noon meal ready.

The bath time ritual continued, and Donna became more creative in her efforts to stimulate her son. On a few occasions, she did jack him off into her mouth, but each time it got on her clothes, and she eventually stopped doing that. At no point did Randy ever see Donna naked, nor did she ever ask or encourage Randy to stimulate her directly. She derived her own pleasure simply from pleasuring him, and the sheer intimacy of their relationship. It filled a void in her emotional life, a void Ed could simply never fill.

Finally a date was set for the cast to come off. As the date approached, Donna’s stimulations became more urgent, more passionate.

The last bath time was the day before the cast was scheduled to come off. This would be their last bath together. They met in the bathroom, and Donna stripped her son naked.

“Hop on in, honey, I’ll be right back.”

Randy got into the running shower, and Donna closed the curtain. She stepped from the room. Randy felt the cool water across his back, and his cock twitched in anticipation of what he had come to expect at bath time. Donna still had not returned, and Randy stood helpless in the bathtub.

“Mom? Are you coming?”

Just then he saw her come back into the bathroom, he turned his back to her, waiting her for to open the curtain and wash his back. The curtain opened. He felt his mom get into the shower with him. He spun around and saw his mother, completely naked. Her small breasts were not shapely, and her belly held a slight pudge. Her bush was an untrimmed thatch of thick black hair. Randy stood in stunned silence.

“I just thought it was only fair to expose myself to you, since I’ve been taking advantage of you for so long.”

Randy could only stare.

“I’m sure they’re not as pretty as your classmates, but you’ve sucked on these before.”

Donna kneaded her small breasts together.

“Do you want to do it again? This will be our last chance at this.”

Randy leaned forward to and took a proffered breast into his mouth. He suckled her nipple gently, but fervently. She cooed, and her nipple stiffened noticeably in his mouth. He sucked one nipple, then the other, then back the first. Donna moaned and cradled his head, holding him to her bosom. Finally she released him, and Randy stood upright.

“That’s nice, baby. Now let’s get you cleaned up.”

Donna took the soap and washed Randy’s body. When she had finished her legitimate cleaning, she stood behind him, and with her bar of soap in hand, jacked her son off, reaching around his athletic body. She pressed her naked body to his wet, warm backside, pumping his cock with both hands, kissing his broad muscular back.

Randy came hard, spraying his cum violently across the bathtub. Randy panted, and Donna moaned sympathetically. He could feel her heart pounding against his back, and she felt his cock pulse in her hands. She caressed his shriveling penis as the water cascaded over their naked bodies. Both mother and son knew that tomorrow things would be different. Forever.

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